I have a confession to make: I don't iron. Ever. I remove clothes from the dryer, promptly, gave them a hard shake, and consider it good enough. Those garments too hopelessly wrinkled, I donate to a thrift shop, hoping they will find a home with someone with more ambition, energy, and patience than I possess.
I have a second confession to make: liberal applications of Vaseline not withstanding, I have wrinkles. On my face. While I'm not particularly fond of these grooves and valleys, neither am I ashamed of them. They represent a lifetime of living: the furrows on my forehead started as I waited for a teenage daughter to return home at night; the lines fanning from the corners of my eyes were earned during time spent in the sun; the brackets around my mouth are the result of laughing with my friends.
No, I am not ashamed of my wrinkles.
I just re-read what I wrote and realize that I sound like a female version of Columbo with his rumpled raincoat and hangdog face. Oh, well.
Though my blog is only ten days old, I am discovering some recurring themes, aside from the stated one of gratitude. One such theme is appearance versus substance.
The daughter of some acquaintances received upon her graduation from high school the gift of breast augmentation (a boob job in the vernacular) from her parents. I question the wisdom of this "gift." (This beautiful eighteen year old girl also has hair extensions and artificial nails.)
I have no problem with people wanting to look their best. (After all, Lady Clariol and I are on first-name basis.) We all desire to look as good as we can. That is only natural and right.
However, I do have a problem with the values implied in this gift. Is this child-woman now pondering what should she do next, questioning what else is wrong with her? What will happen, when, age, inevitably, has its way and her beauty fades? Will she have the strength of character to accept that and find other reasons to feel good about herself? Or will she be constantly searching for the next "fix?"
For her sake, I hope not.
So, for today, I am grateful for wrinkles. I earned every one of them.
LOL--love it. Instead of The Wall Stret Journal, I enjoy your blog with the morning coffee. Go girl. Chuckling, idenitifying and appreciating, Bobbe
ReplyDeleteAs I am now earning some wrinkles of my own (no, I am obviously NOT too young to have wrinkles), I really appreciate this entry. I was just telling Will that when I see myself in my dreams at night, I see a face considerably younger-looking than the one that makes an appearance in the bathroom mirror in the morning. But I know that the wrinkles around my eyes come from squinting into the sun at my childrens' football and soccer games, etc.
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful way to start each day! Your blog makes me smile, but more importantly, it makes me reflect on what is really important. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteHi Jane,
ReplyDeleteIn my work with older adults, I have come to appreciate the way our faces show our lives and experience. Enjoying the blog very much.
David